<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Stay by redtoblack</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639800">Stay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtoblack/pseuds/redtoblack'>redtoblack</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magicians (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Quentin Coldwater, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Anal Penetration, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, F/M, Gentle Dom Arielle (The Magicians), Gentle Dom Eliot Waugh, M/M, Mosaic Timeline (The Magicians: A Life in the Day), Multi, Oral Sex, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Quentin Coldwater's Canonical Oral Fixation, Sex Magic, Sub Quentin Coldwater, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Eliot Waugh, like. so many feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:28:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,752</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtoblack/pseuds/redtoblack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Peaches? Plums?” she’d said, and that’s how it started.</p><p>-- or, Eliot and Arielle have made some <em>plans</em> for the night.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arielle &amp; Eliot Waugh, Arielle/Eliot Waugh, Arielle/Quentin Coldwater, Arielle/Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Peaches and Plums Stockings 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stay</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/shockvaluecola/gifts">shockvaluecola</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please enjoy this gift of the filthiest thing I have written so far. I've had a really, really fun time with it. &lt;3 &lt;3</p><p>Thank you so much to stormcoming for the beta!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Peaches? Plums?” she’d said, and that’s how it started.</p><p>Quentin was infatuated from the beginning, standing to do that nervous little hair pull while he introduced them. It didn’t matter that his back was turned to Eliot, he could <em>feel</em> the pouting just radiating from him when Arielle leaned her weight against Lunk’s chest for a kiss. He probably tried not to let it show, and Ari certainly hadn’t acknowledged it, but they’ve been able to laugh about that since.</p><p>The question turned into an announcement into a welcome greeting, a sing-song <em>Peaches and plums, get up dumb-dumbs,</em> when Ari’s path to the early morning market took her right past the Mosaic. And Lunk, too, of course, we mustn’t forget Lunk was there too, simply astounding them all with the occasional ability to form a thought not about Ari, or Ari’s orchard, or Ari’s dress or hair or — peaches. Such a delightful presence. Eliot had been positively crestfallen when he stopped showing up.</p><p>Except — he had, actually, a little. Not for any reason that was more than tangentially to do with Lunk, but because he had eyes, and those eyes had told him Quentin and Ari would probably be pairing off soon, with him out of the picture. So Eliot had started drinking a little more and pretending he wasn’t drinking more and getting admittedly short with Quentin over little stuff that shouldn’t have mattered, and really it didn’t matter, but he would insist that it did, constantly confusing and pissing off the both of them.</p><p>Eliot never claimed to be a paragon of self-reflection.</p><p>As it turned out, he’d been — wildly incorrect. About a few things.</p><p>On their first year anniversary, as Eliot looked into those gorgeous eyes, reflecting firelight and moonlight and the beauty of all fucking life back at him, and thought <em>It’s okay that I’ll never have you, I’m just glad you’re happy,</em> Quentin tipped forward and kissed him. And then, like that was <em>enough,</em> pulled away gently and met the startled cracked-open like his gooey insides should have been spilling out like egg yolk feeling that Eliot could tell was all over his face with a dry, pleased smile. When Eliot had kissed him back, softly, softer than he’d intended but once he was there he realized there was no alternative, not really, Quentin let out a sound like he’d suddenly seen something beautiful, the same quiet “<em>oh</em>” as when they’d stayed up to watch the sun come up from their perch on the ladder that second week. His mouth had parted under Eliot’s, honey-sweet from the drink which kept Eliot’s thoughts nicely at bay and just stoked that small fire curling beneath his stomach. He’d fallen asleep that night wrapped around Quentin under their favorite quilt, pleasantly sore and with a new taste on his tongue to savor until morning. Humming a simple tune he’d picked up from Ari, the one that always made Q sleepy if he could get him to lie down and listen to it.</p><p>And they’d talked about it, or at least Eliot had thought so. But, as we know, Eliot should not be trusted with talking about things, because something had gotten fucked up, and after months of being a no-strings item that was slowly but surely growing strings on its own, Eliot said <em>you wanna live your life, live it here,</em> and Quentin had taken that to mean <em>I’m like super cool with you getting a girlfriend.</em></p><p>Really, things might have been in dire straits if that girlfriend did not happen to be Arielle. Her sharp edges had already been perfectly honed through friendship to cut through their bullshit. She’d actually refused to come visit until they talked it out for themselves and figured out what the hell they were doing instead of dragging her into the middle of it.</p><p>So they had — and that was two years ago now, two years for their house and garden and family to grow and flourish, to make real connections in town, to find a bigger bed for the three of them, to start talking about Ari moving in full-time. Two years for the three of them to acquire all <em>sorts</em> of strings tying them to one another.</p><p>Two years for the Mosaic to do shit all, but Eliot wasn’t really getting his hopes up anymore. Quentin was the Quest Boy — Questin, as Ari’s younger sister had come to nickname him — while Eliot basically just lived here. Living his life, living <em>their</em> life. Puzzle project on the side.</p><p>He liked it like that. They had a good life together: Ari’s sweet, sharp corners and Quentin’s soft, biting lines.</p><p>Guess that left Eliot in the middle, he mused, stirring a pot over a low fire. Eliot was a — warm, sour filling, then. If the three of them were a pie, Ari was a crust of sugared oats, earthy and crunchy and sweet and strong. Eliot could be the filling — crewberries chopped up and cooked in with peckfruit syrup, as close to a blackberry and lemon flavor as he’d been able to get in Fillory. Quentin, the lattice on top holding it all together, savory and melty with delightful flakes of salt and spice.</p><p>That’d be a really nice pie, actually. Eliot should keep it in mind for when the crewberry bushes started producing again.</p><p>For today, there was no dessert. Well — not dessert that they were going to eat. Or — not eat in a food-related way.</p><p>Orchard season was just starting to back off, and Ari’d sent word that her sister had agreed to take care of the slower business for a whole week, and she was coming over starting tonight. Eliot had immediately started working on putting together her favorite meal, and with a final stir, it should be set to simmer for the next few hours and be perfect by the time she arrived.</p><p>He did hope that their little surprise had worked out.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“It really lets you feel all that?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s what they say,” Ari said with a shrug. “It’ll take a few days until I’m not needed at the orchard, but I’m going to make a trip soon and see how much they cost.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Eliot grinned in excitement. “Maybe you can pay them in peaches.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I know!” she laughed, and leaned over mid-step to kiss him clumsily on the cheek. “My life would be so much easier if everyone thought about it the way you do.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Mm. If everyone thought like me, we would have a lot more problems than just paying in peaches.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ari arrived just as they were wrapping up weeding for the day, using sunset as a good stopping point. She raised her eyebrows almost unnoticeably at Eliot.</p><p>“You can shower first, Q. I’ll take this lot to the compost by myself, it’s not much.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, okay. I’ll see you inside then.” He brushed the crumbly soil from his hands and leaned to press a chaste kiss first to Eliot’s lips and then Ari’s, waving awkwardly over his shoulder as he almost tripped over the threshold on the way inside.</p><p>They both stood smiling until the door closed, then instantly turned in towards one another, keeping their voices hushed.</p><p>“Did you get it?”</p><p>She grinned wide. “Oh yes.” From her deep coat pocket she drew a long, thin box, classily ornate in a way that reminded Eliot of his old royal clothing.</p><p>“Shit, how much did this cost?”</p><p>Ari shushed him, pressing the box into his hands. “Not as much as it could have. And it’ll be worth it.”</p><p>Inside, nestled in a bed of velveteen fabric pieces, lay a beautifully carved wooden dildo. It was smooth and cool to the touch, nearly like metal, and with a similar heft when Eliot reverently lifted it from the box. It didn’t hold temperature like metal did, though, already warming up under his fingers as he tested out how it would feel to stroke his fist up the shiny nut-brown shaft. It would be a nice complement to their bed, long and slender where Quentin was shorter but nice and thick, and Eliot was — in general well-endowed. They had a few other toys, but they mostly all went more towards Eliot’s size and shape because of who was using them. For this one, they’d decided a different focus was probably the best move. It had a delicious curve at the tip that you just couldn’t get with a biological dick. And when he turned it over to examine the base, the carved balls tapered together into a handle of sorts, wrapping around the negative space in a smooth curve.</p><p>“So you can use it in your hand as well as wear it?” he asked, sliding a finger curiously along the smooth bend.</p><p>“Yup,” Ari nodded. “And without the accompanying spell, it’ll function like a regular toy. It’s just got some hidden talents for those that know how to access them.”</p><p>--</p><p>“Do you want dessert? We have some spice cake left over I think, unless El ate it, but —” Quentin said, starting to get up and clear his bowl, halted by Ari’s hand circling his forearm. She pulled him gently back to sitting.</p><p>“I’m fine. Already got some,” she said with a smirk, leaning in to kiss his forehead and then his lips.</p><p>Eliot left them to their warm up to clear the dishes, not wanting anything to get sticky just because they were impatient. He was, though — impatient, and worked as quickly and quietly as he could, letting the muffled moans and slick sounds from behind send a static tingle through his nerves.</p><p>When he finished, making sure to leave everything in its place and wipe up and clean his hands torturously thoroughly, he quietly rounded the table to the bedroom. Past the sight of Quentin straddling the bench, both hands up to cup Ari’s cheeks as she leaned over one knee, palms planted on the wood, pressing slow, licking kisses to his open mouth. An ache of heat dropped through him, settling rich and dark between his hips. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting to it with a smile. This was gonna be a fun night.</p><p>By the time he sat back down at the dinner table with the boxed toy, Quentin hadn’t moved, had probably not even noticed he’d left.</p><p>Eliot settled to watch as he let out another tiny moan, sucked on Ari’s tongue, squirmed to spread his thighs wider over the bench. “Ari,” he breathed, nipping at her lower lip. They grinned against each other as she scooched closer so one leg could hike up around his hip, not quite pressing up against him but a near thing.</p><p>“Do you wanna get in here?” Q asked, stroking a thumb along her neck but looking hungrily at Eliot.</p><p>He smiled, always grateful for the deliberate inclusion, always endeared at how absolutely insatiable Quentin was. “Oh no, please carry on. I’m happy here for now.”</p><p>Quentin nodded, and dove back into kissing Arielle. She matched him, but kept her eyes open a moment longer, looking dark and pleased over at Eliot to send him a wink.</p><p>It was messy. It always was — they all knew how they liked it, and they were <em>extremely</em> compatible in that they liked it a little all over the place. Now that they were close together, Ari was putting her hands to good use pulling apart the tie on Quentin’s shirt, rubbing firm over his chest and collarbones. Their lips locked together and slipped apart over and over, mesmerizing, moving a little each time so that they were never exactly lined up. Q was taking his time pulling out her hair pins by touch, dropping them one by one onto the table, finally unwinding the elegant braid from her head and combing it loose with his fingers. She gave a hum and pushed into him on the next kiss, circling his nipples with her thumbs — and things were on, Quentin gasping and shifting to press fully against her, one hand going down her back out of sight as he moved on the bench. Eliot couldn’t see that far, but he knew that movement, knew what it looked like when Quentin was rutting to get himself off.</p><p>Fuck, they were so damn pretty together. He bit his lip, relaxing his hands along his thighs, suddenly very aware of his breath, the flush rising to his cheeks. Tried to focus on a steady inhale, long exhale, not too fast. His cock was already half hard against his thigh, firming up with each passing second. But it wasn’t time yet, they still had a while to go, so Eliot carefully kept his hands to the side.</p><p>Red twists of Ari’s hair in a loose grip, Quentin was breaking their kiss, gasping for breath. His hips were moving gracelessly, gorgeously, short grinds for friction where he couldn’t get any leverage. Breathy groans fell from his lips like prayers. Arielle still had a hand at his chest, pouring relentless attention onto one sensitive nub and then the other. Back arched, she wasn’t shifting, firmly planted on the bench as Quentin rocked fervently against her. She held the side of his neck, licking at his slack lips and jaw, wrapping around him to mouth at his pulse point and the skin under his ear.</p><p>Eliot’s lips parted. He let them stay that way. An electric shiver tip-toed its way down his spine.</p><p>Quentin’s moans were getting louder, less restrained — almost frustrated. Shushing him, Ari licked her hand, sliding it under the waist of his pants as she caught his sounds in a nuzzling kiss.</p><p>Throat dry when he tried to swallow, Eliot looked between them — the way Q let himself be held by the gentle fingers under his jaw, the swift, sure back-and-forth of Arielle’s arm where it disappeared past the line of the table — and gripped the edge of the bench with both hands.</p><p>Quentin came shuddering with a cry muffled against Ari’s mouth. The motion of her arm slowed to a stop, kisses softening into something slow and sweet. Eventually they pulled apart, foreheads touching, breaths stirring red and brown hair where it fell wild over their cheeks.</p><p>A long, calming breath, and Eliot directed a cleanup spell at Quentin. He shivered and let out a sigh, then leaned back to look at Eliot. His eyes were focused. Intent. Relaxed in a way the Q of a few years ago would never have been after coming in his pants in front of two people. The room was charged, spiked like gin in punch. Firelight and promise curled lazily through the air.</p><p>“Why do I get the feeling there’s something I don’t know?” Quentin asked, studying the matching excitement on their faces.</p><p>“Maybe because,” Eliot said, and finished by holding up the box.</p><p>Quentin turned to face the table again, accepting it eagerly. A smile hovered on his pink, swollen lips as he turned it around in his hands, running careful fingertips along the embossed pattern. “It’s like I’m getting a wand,” he said, glancing up at Eliot in amusement.</p><p>“Well,” Eliot mused, “that’s not actually a bad comparison.”</p><p>“Come on, open it,” Ari said, wiggling in her seat. She had multiple reasons to be impatient — not the least the fact that they were having to have a <em>conversation</em> after she had just kissed Q to the edge and back again.</p><p>He did, eyes widening and smile broadening as he set down the box, lifting out the toy. It looked good in his hand. And in proximity to his mouth. <em>So many things to try.</em></p><p>“This is a gift to our collective sex life,” Ari explained, as he felt up the pronounced ridge and realistic veins, “but we had a special idea for it, so tonight is a gift for you, if you’re up for it.”</p><p>“Yes,” he said immediately, turning a little to hold it up to the light of the fire.</p><p>“Don’t you wanna know what the idea is before you agree to it?” Eliot asked, grinning.</p><p>Q pursed his lips. The head of the dildo was coming perilously close to his face as he studied it. It looked like Quentin deciding to actually put it in his mouth was imminent. “What’s the idea before I agree to it?” he said, still staring, now thumbing across the smooth indentation at the tip. Watching Quentin handle a cock at the dinner table, no matter how wooden, was really not helping Eliot’s whole staying-calm-situation.</p><p>“Both of us at the same time,” he said calmly, watching Quentin’s face, which — <em>bingo.</em> They hadn’t done this before, since all their other toys were way too large to do two at once, but he knew Quentin had thought about it. They’d mentioned it often enough, after he’d been good and fucked by Eliot, or Ari with their homemade harness: finally investing in another toy that was small enough to go double with. It just hadn’t happened until now. But it really should have — the words finally got Quentin to look up, mouth falling open a little to show a hint of his front teeth, eyes wide and excited as he looked between them. The flush that had just finished fading as he came down from orgasm returned with a vengeance, smearing pretty pink down his chest under his still-open shirt.</p><p>“This one’s living wood, too — with a linking spell I can wear it without the harness and feel what’s happening,” Arielle added.</p><p>Quentin breathed out a dazed laugh like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “You’re gonna fuck me and feel it?”</p><p>“Mmhm.”</p><p>“Can you —” he licked his lips, attention back on the toy, feathering over the balls, and Eliot felt his breath catch, “can you, um, come with it?”</p><p>“I can do that, sweetling. There’s a whole sheet of secondary spells we can play with.”</p><p>Ari leaned over, nosing at his cheek. “You want me to?” It was quiet, in Quentin’s ear, but loud enough that it was for Eliot too. It was time, time to stop sitting around and put it to use already. She kissed there, wet and once. “You want to feel me come inside you?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he sighed, tilting his head to her mouth. “Like, a lot.”</p><p>She moved to stand behind him, carding through his hair. “You want to feel it while you’re all stretched out on Eliot’s cock?” Gods. Voice like honey and words like porn, that one. Quentin closed his eyes, a groan rumbling in his throat, and she looked to Eliot.</p><p>“What do you think, Q?” he asked, picking up the thread, making his way around the table to crouch next to him, taking the toy gently from his hands. “Start with me, get you all hot and relaxed so Ari can slide right in? The two of us filling you up so good you don’t even have to beg for more?”</p><p>“Yeah. Please.” His eyelashes fluttered a few times before successfully opening, and Eliot felt his heart stutter. Quentin always went a little gooey under the full force of both of their attentions. It felt — a lot of ways, but the biggest one was awe — Eliot was always in awe that he got to have this. Quentin’s trust.</p><p>He stood halfway, swaying in to catch Quentin’s lips in a thorough press, and guiding him up to stand the rest of the way with him. The dildo got handed off to Ari so she could get it situated for the linking spell; she went to the storage room where they’d hidden the instruction papers. When Eliot’s calves bumped into the bed, he sat, intending to keep moving backwards and coax Quentin to follow by the lips.</p><p>He probably should have known better.</p><p>Q’s palms pressed down warm on his thighs, keeping them from lifting to pull Eliot’s feet onto the bed. Instead, he stayed seated on the edge, Quentin’s soft gaze pinning him in place as his hands let go to slide downward, inward, spreading Eliot’s thighs until Quentin could get on his knees between them. He didn’t break eye contact even while drawing protection charms onto his palm, face up so Eliot could see, pressing the magic first to Eliot’s already tingling thigh and then to himself, choosing the column of his throat as the open skin to wrap briefly around.</p><p>Eliot’s brain — was soap. Soda. A cauldron of sorcery, something that was nothing but <em>bubbles,</em> trying to both breathe <em>and</em> not get too close to the edge. A more impossible task than the Mosaic, when he had his beautiful, beloved boy smiling up at him, helping remove his clothes, bending his head to <em>lick</em> and make Eliot forget that weren’t they actually going to — </p><p>“Wait,” he said, airy, stroking at Quentin’s cheek with a thumb. He paused but didn’t pull off, just looking up at Eliot with his — <em>mouth</em> and <em>eyes</em> and making a questioning sound which went straight to Eliot’s cock because it was <em>still resting on his tongue,</em> jesus fuck, he barely kept his hips on the bed — “if I’m going to be fucking you in a minute, shouldn’t we — ah —”</p><p>That was as far as he got, because he’d been absently petting Quentin’s hair, and without realizing he’d tugged on a few strands. A moan and a jolt and some industrial-grade suction later, he’d spilled into Quentin’s mouth cradled in his lap. Q was obviously pleased about it, letting out a hum against Eliot’s thigh, and — he couldn’t really fault him his methods, now could he?</p><p>When Ari came back into the room, her fond look visible over the top of Quentin’s head, Eliot was halfway through getting Q naked. They were at the side of the bed, standing now so Eliot could move around Quentin as he pleased. He was going slow, teasing maybe a little more than was necessary, but the way Quentin shivered at his nails on his ribs and leaned back against his chest when he pressed close was irresistible.</p><p>“Ready?” she asked, handing Eliot the spellwork. He held it low so Quentin could see too, tucked under his chin as he was.</p><p>“Oh, it’s collaborative?” Quentin asked, perking up from his content and sleepy state to look closer at the sheet of hand-inked numbers and diagrams. He did not seem to care a whit that his pants were now the last remnant of clothing between the three of them.</p><p>“Only since you’re doing it for someone else. If I could do magic, I could cast it on myself,” Ari answered with a little wrinkle of her nose. Arms crossed under her bare chest with the new toy casually hanging between two fingers. Eliot wasn’t a <em>personal</em> fan, exactly, but he could appreciate aesthetics, and the cool confidence with which she wore her uncovered skin always made his breath catch in his throat. Just close enough to make him miss Bambi — but just different enough that the initial comparison didn’t make him feel guilty anymore.</p><p>Quentin didn’t respond to her muggle salt, already distracted by the paper, nodding along against Eliot’s neck as he read. “Okay. I’ll take the right and you take the left?” he asked, looking up at Eliot just as he finished exchanging a grin with Ari.</p><p>“Hm? Oh, yeah, sounds good.”</p><p>Paper set down on the bed where they could both read from it, they joined hands so that Quentin’s right and Eliot’s left were free to cast. It was a pretty simple sequence, actually, the magic inherent in the living wood probably doing most of the legwork. Or cockwork, as the case may be. The bulk of it was setting the link for lots of different variables of circumstance, intent and sensation and so on, like planting carrots. The seeds are tiny, but they’ve all gotta be in their own little holes, no matter how much you <em>want</em> to just scatter them over the whole bed and have done with it.</p><p>At the end, their hands cupped together, filling with a glowy blue liquid. Eliot let out a breath and started to step towards Ari, but Quentin stopped him.</p><p>“Wait, can we, um, do extension number four? And eight?”</p><p>Eliot looked back at the sheet. “Four, absolutely. And I know you wanna do eight, baby, but maybe tonight isn’t the best time? Or we could do that tonight and do both of us later.”</p><p>He scrunched up his face in a pout. “No, I wanna do this tonight, I just — let’s do number eight tomorrow?” he asked, brightening. The cutest.</p><p>Careful to keep their hands together so the thick liquid didn’t spill, Eliot brushed a kiss to his temple, looking to Arielle. She came to his side to look down at the sheet, skimming a cool hand comfortably down his back. “Oh, yes,” she said once she’d found the extensions in question, smile spreading. “We can do that anytime you want it.”</p><p>For now, it was just extension four, which added a standby of conjured lube in a tiny pocket dimension at the tip. It would let Q feel it when Ari came — or see it, depending on what happened between here and there — and would apparently feel like a natural release to her too. Because this spell needed one more way to be the best piece of magic in existence.</p><p>The extension was a quick incantation in some old Fillorian language Ari showed them how to pronounce, and the liquid in their hands glowed again, streaks of bubblegum pink appearing in the pool. She stood in front of them, raising her eyebrows excitedly, holding the wooden dildo out so they could coat it in the stuff.</p><p>“And the — you have to ingest a little bit of it,” Quentin remembered, looking down at their now empty hands while she positioned the toy against the curve of her pubic bone. She just smiled and took one of his hands, slipping the ring finger into her mouth and sucking it clean with an efficient pop. He let out a sharp exhale.</p><p>Ari swallowed, licking her lips, tongue a little blue. And started to fall, catching herself on the bed frame at the last moment as Eliot and Quentin both reached to break her path — with clean hands, they all noticed at once. Every trace of the magic goo was gone, and Arielle had a lovely wooden dick affixed seamlessly between her legs.</p><p>“Is that — did it work?” Eliot asked, staring. They were all staring. After getting used to the sight of Ari with a harness, which was always hot in its own right, this. Was. Not that.</p><p>The wood had taken on a slightly different look, the glossy finish looking less like wax and more like the tautness of skin, and the base had lightened considerably where it was temporarily melded with her pale skin. Experimentally, she swung her hips back and forth, taking a couple steps to see the way it swayed with her movements.</p><p>“I think so. It feels...strange, but I think —” she stopped then, finally putting a hand on her new cock, stroking tentatively and tipping her head back on a laughing moan. “Oh yes, this is wonderful.” She kept gently exploring the way things felt, but slowly came closer, approaching Quentin — </p><p>— who was trembling, actually <em>quivering</em> from his wet, parted lips to his half-hard cock to the iron grip on Eliot’s fingers, eyes dark as hell and absolutely fixed on Ari’s hand as it twisted slow over her head and he let out a soft “oh my god” — </p><p>— and he was still staring when she got close enough to let go, tug at his pants so that they pooled at his ankles, and grasp them both together. Flushed skin and wood grain peeked out between slender fingers as she stroked. Not firm or fast enough to really mean it, but not gentle enough to be teasing. Q’s grip on Eliot’s hand relaxed, melting into it. Eliot stepped behind to wrap around his back, cock fitting to the swell of his ass, hands low, soft, possessive, on his hips.</p><p>Ari placed two fingertips under Quentin’s jaw, watching with hooded eyes as he immediately raised his head to look at her. “How’s it feel?”</p><p>He let out a high sighing sound, and closed his lips around the tip of her thumb when she pet it across his mouth. Watching him suck lightly, the love and heat in Ari’s gaze as she did the same, sent weak pulses of arousal through Eliot’s body, cock trying its damnedest to twitch in interest not five minutes after he’d just come. He rested his chin on the top of Quentin’s head.</p><p>Ari slipped her hand from his face when Quentin tried to take her thumb deeper, quieting his whimper as he chased her fingers with a brief kiss. “How’s it feel?” she repeated intently, but this time also directed it to Eliot, sliding her hand around both of them to pull his hips in, crush the three of them together. It pushed Eliot’s cock against Quentin’s ass, and he moaned, then again in laughing surprise as Ari’s wet thumb dipped gently down against his ass to circle at his hole.</p><p>“Good,” he responded, happy, sensitive shivers going through him. Pressing a kiss to Quentin’s hair, he tilted to the side — “Q?”</p><p>“Y-yeah, feels — really good,” he managed, grabbing at each of their waists like the words might knock him over. Face upturned and resting back against Eliot’s clavicle, eyes closed, mouth open. God, he looked like a dream. Eliot leaned down and kissed him thoroughly, following the thin sparks slowly spreading from Ari’s fingers at his entrance. When she slid one in up to the knuckle, he gasped and instinctively rocked forwards against Quentin, pleasure overtaking sensitivity.</p><p>“You always know when I’m ready,” he breathed, looking to Ari from under his lashes. She smiled wide, crooking her finger and pulling a little to get a nice stretch.</p><p>“Of course I do. I know you. Just like I know,” she said conspiratorially, and gently removed her finger from Eliot while slowing her hand to rest casually on Quentin’s now-hard dick, “that it’s time to get this wagon on the road.” She booped Quentin’s nose and stepped back, hopping up onto the bed. He let out a breathy laugh and crawled onto the mattress with her, stepping out of his clothing puddle to settle on his back as Eliot laid himself out above him.</p><p>“You feeling good, sweetheart?” Eliot asked from just above Quentin’s lips, hovering there as he slowly pressed down against the length of his hot, compact form, watching the quick blinks and jumps of Q’s jaw muscles as he started to roll his hips. Nice firm presses to get them both heated up, and he drew one hand down under his hips with a tut for quick lube to match his rhythm against Quentin’s ass.</p><p>“So good, El,” Quentin said hazily. His hands were pressed to the small of Eliot’s back, wide and roughened from years of garden work and moving tiles. Legs starting to part as he let out a whimper, knees coming up to first frame Eliot’s hips, then moving back more to let his ankles wrap the back of Eliot’s thighs. He tilted his head up with a quiet groan as Eliot rocked harder, asking for a kiss, and Eliot would never deny him that. He licked into his mouth dirty and slow, stroking delicately at Quentin’s tongue and biting down when they parted. Like he said — <em>messy</em>, just like where he ground his hips against Quentin’s, both of them now hard and slick with shared precome.</p><p>A rustle of blankets announced Arielle coming closer. Eliot looked up to see her settling up against the headboard, stretched over their pillows. One hand stroked her wooden cock while the other came out to card through his hair, sending sparks across his scalp, then went to Quentin’s, alternating taking fistfuls and pulling hard with gentle, soothing strokes. Quiet whines feathered Eliot’s lips every time she switched as Quentin went boneless beneath him.</p><p>“You’re so pretty like this, Q, so — such a pretty boy, so good,” he whispered, then pushed up to make room between them and focus on making his fingers good for Quentin. With the better angle, he could slip in a third finger, thrusting evenly into the silky give of Quentin’s body. They did this — often, and a couple of Quentin’s go-to toys were even bigger than Eliot, so warm-up fingering was not nearly as much of a necessity as it used to be. Quentin moaned against his lips, sucking sparks into Eliot’s tongue when he pressed it into his mouth.</p><p>Above them — Ari’s breath hitching, her entire frame tightening, face pinched open and pink, hair streaks of color against her flushing skin, feet slowly pressing and sliding against the sheets as she pumped her cock faster— </p><p>“Q, look,” he whispered, because he wouldn’t want to miss this. “Gods, you’re so — show us, you look so good —”</p><p>She nodded, letting out a litany of Fillorian curses that Eliot still didn’t really understand — <em>Juniper’s roots</em> and <em>Ember stop me</em> and <em>oh gods, herring.</em></p><p>Holy <em>fuck</em>, Eliot usually can’t see so clearly when Ari comes, but watching her hand go harder and harder until she freezes up and jerks into her palm with a wordless shout, spell extension number four letting her spurt across the pillows and over Quentin’s face and hair where her hand still has a shaky, white-knuckle grip — Eliot made a sound that might be embarrassing if he didn’t know from the most reliable sources that both of his partners found it incredibly hot, and thrust hard, grinding Quentin down against the sheets.</p><p>Q was moaning against him, making breathless, desperate noises. His legs hitched higher and he batted at Eliot’s arm where it was craned between their torsos. “Fuck, come on, El, fuck me, I’m — I need it, please, come <em>on</em>.”</p><p>“Okay, yeah, yes, I will,” he heard himself say, too busy gentling his fingers from the grip of Quentin’s perfect ass and shifting down so the head of his cock could press, dark and wet and hard, at his rim. He <em>was</em> ready, loose and lax enough to take him in easy, tight enough to give a satisfying squeezing pressure all along Eliot’s length as he sank inside. Fucking <em>gorgeous.</em></p><p>And Eliot babbled all the way, of course, with the slick slide and hot grip of Quentin around his dick and watching his <em>face</em> as he reacted to every slight thrust. “Holy shit, Q, you’ve still got Ari’s come on your face, did you know that, it’s so fucking hot, god, baby, what the hell, you feel so — good — so perfect —”</p><p>“Yeah — yeah I know, El, Eliot, <em>fuck</em>, Ari, stay, staystaystay —” he had a hand clamped to Ari’s wrist where she was about to let go of his hair, tone pleading with her not to.</p><p>Eliot bottomed out and Quentin groaned, back arching under him, but kept his wide eyes on Arielle as she rolled over till they were perpendicular and nose to nose.</p><p>“I will, I’m staying,” she soothed, removing his hand and regathering a grip at the crown of his head. His eyes fell shut under the pressure while Eliot settled into a steady rhythm, deep and sure. “Were you watching me?” she asked, eyes dark and on Eliot as she spoke low into Quentin’s ear. “Did you like seeing me come undone like that? Getting it all over your face, a gift for my perfect sweetling? Did you think about what it’s gonna feel like inside you later?”</p><p>Quentin whimpered, harsh and ragged, and Eliot felt his legs widen helplessly on either side of his hips, and he could <em>fucking relate, jesus’s tits,</em> his movements just barely stuttering at her words.</p><p>“You wanna get cleaned up?” Eliot panted, having had an idea. “I could use magic, but I’m a little bit <em>busy,</em>” he said, punctuating the last word with an extra-slow, grinding thrust. “What do you think, Ari?”</p><p>“I think some things are best done the old-fashioned way,” she said with a cheeky smile, and pressed a kiss to Quentin’s nose. His eyes opened, dazed but curious, immediately rolling back into his head as she licked out at the line of his cheek.</p><p>“El — Ari — <em>fuck</em> —” he said, small and heartfelt, and tipped his head back. Exposing his throat in a way that went straight to Eliot’s cock, in a way that made him swallow hard, in a way that got Ari to pause.</p><p>She dimmed her licks into kisses, gentle presses of her lips speckled across his temple and brow. “Oh, Q,” she said quietly, carefully, and moved her hand — Eliot slowed his movements, not wanting to jostle Quentin at all, wanting to watch — down from where it was holding his chin to rest lightly, nearly hovering, just over his Adam’s apple. Eliot could see her hand moving up and down with the beat of Quentin’s heart, the same pounding song currently reverberating out from Eliot’s hips and through his bones. “Is this what you want?”</p><p>Q’s hands flexed where they curled around fistfuls of blanket at his sides. He nodded. “Don’t squeeze, just — just —”</p><p>“Like this?” She wrapped her hand fully around his throat, loose and light but not hovering above the skin anymore. Quentin sighed and nodded, a small smile curling his lips. “Okay, sweetling,” she said, resuming her path across his face. “Thank you for asking, that was so good of you.”</p><p>Eliot’s urgency had cooled down with the pause, and he stayed at the lower pace for a moment to gather himself, let Quentin and Arielle gather themselves. When Ari finished her work and went to give Quentin’s mouth some attention instead, he said, “Are you ready to switch, Q? Take both of us?” He responded with a low whine, grabbing for one of Eliot’s hands. Super hot — not super helpful. “We need words, baby. Do you still wanna do that?”</p><p>“God, <em>mnh, yes,</em> I want you to, fucking fill me up, I wanna take it,” he said, somehow still in that same rough tone. Suffice to say Eliot’s urgency had <em>returned.</em></p><p>“Good boy. You ready?” he asked Ari, who nodded eagerly and removed her hands from Q’s hair and throat with some soothing strokes. “Roll over for me, come on,” he said, pulling out to help guide Quentin’s knees up under him, feeling jelly-adjacent with the sight of Quentin ass-up and pinked-over on come-ruined sheets, Ari stroking her lovely wooden dick while leaning down to Q’s face for a kiss.</p><p>What a life he led.</p><p>Hands steadying on Quentin’s hips, warm breath fortifying in his lungs, Eliot reentered Quentin in a long, slow slide. He went in easy, so easy, like Quentin wanted him there, like his body was taking the cries of “more, please, fuck” and pulling out the underlying, unraveling thread of <em>come back to me.</em> A few short thrusts for good measure, as the ripples along Quentin’s back begged him to <em>move</em> as much as his words. Ari crawled over and matched Eliot’s position, standing up on her knees, catching his gaze breathlessly. Her eyes were deep and consuming and adoring and Eliot might have pitched forward, balance wavering, if not for the clutch and sweet drag of Quentin keeping him together.</p><p>Ari ran a hand down his face, gentle and cool, thumbing at his lips so they opened. The stroke of her thumbpad at his tongue, entrancing, the ridges minutely rough and pressure warm enough to melt. She kept going, sliding from his open mouth down his neck, a trail of cold lighting the way along his taut skin, across the plane of his chest and carefully through the dips of his ribs, transferring from his stomach over to his wrist where he held Quentin’s hips against his.</p><p>Pulling his hand and holding it out, face-up, he realized what she was asking for. Widening his stance to make sure he wouldn’t do something unfortunate but not improbable like fall over, Eliot used his little finger to draw their protection charms out, the need for two different sets setting its own private thrill through him. The magic flowed through his arm with the last line, and he grabbed back onto Q — who let out a low moan — as Ari clasped the magic on his palm to hers, locking their fingers. Like some bizarre, absurd, absolutely-just-right reimagining of a handshake.</p><p>She smiled up at him, pressed the fingertips of his hand on hers to her lips in a chaste kiss, and guided him back to where he was still rocking steadily into Quentin. He conjured a handful of lube for her, pouring into her cupped hand so she could add more where she saw fit — along his cock, when he slid out far enough, gentle around the edge of Quentin’s rim, and all over her fingers just before she pressed one to his entrance and then inside.</p><p>Quentin cried out, a pleased puddle of a sound. The enveloping heat of him tightened and relaxed.</p><p>“More? Or do you want me to wait?” Ari asked, massaging at the tension in the curve of his spine.</p><p>“Please more, mm, I’m good, ready, want it,” Q gasped, voice throbbing with it, pressing back.</p><p>“Okay, you’re almost there,” she promised, carefully slipping in another finger. The tension grew and Eliot made himself stay at a steady pace — not too fast, not before they were all there together.</p><p>Short groans that gave way to air before they had a chance to get loud filled the room as she scissored her fingers, slowly stretching Quentin out so she wouldn’t be a shock.</p><p>Eliot felt his thoughts stall out as he watched his cock slip in and out of Quentin — the view already big enough, already something which flung open the windows and shook out the dusty rugs and lit the roaring fireplace in his heart of hearts — but now with Arielle’s hand, feeling the ministrations of her slick slender fingers as she opened up Quentin’s pink puckered rim and made room for herself. Not between them, never between them, just — </p><p>With them.</p><p>A part of them.</p><p>Joining them.</p><p>Eliot felt a whine in the back of his throat as she stood to straddle Quentin’s ass, leaning back into him so that they lined up on his next stroke out.</p><p>Q went noiseless as he was left empty for a moment, Ari slicking up herself and Eliot one more time before they slid inside together. The moment hung heavy.</p><p>(Crewberries for harvest. Their weight dipping the branches low to brush the ground. Dusty and ripe in the summer heat. They would make a gorgeous filling.)</p><p>Four hands grasped at Quentin’s gorgeous hips as they carefully, so, so carefully, rocked their way inside. It was — the first thing that came to mind was <em>oh my god so fucking tight oh fuck,</em> and yes, Eliot did hear something to that effect tumbling out of his mouth to ruffle Arielle’s hair. But the second thing was <em>indescribable.</em> The — the feeling of <em>this.</em></p><p>The hard wooden head of Ari’s cock rocked against Eliot’s shaft as they thrust together, pulling a grunt from somewhere deep in his chest.</p><p>“Oh,” Quentin said, overwhelmed, as they bottomed out, his rim taut and flexing around the combined girth, “oh <em>god.</em>”</p><p>They breathed together, three sets of heavy, panting rhythms, and Eliot gave an experimental thrust, rocking out maybe two inches and back in.</p><p>Even more than the magma now filtering through his veins instead of blood, the effect was immediate. Q shuddered, clenching hot around their cocks, pushing on the bed to squirm back against them, whining, vaguely saying, “Oh god, oh <em>please,</em> just <em>fuck</em> me.”</p><p>Rolling his hips, muscles tensing and melting into nothing at the same time, Eliot closed his eyes and let himself sink eternally deep only to pull back and do it again — god the <em>heat</em> — and again — the lax give of Quentin’s beautiful body taking them both so good so well — and again — Ari pressing hard above him the curve of twin carved balls and impossibly smooth length — and again — every time Eliot ground down against Q’s prostate he clenched and shouted and jerked — and — </p><p>Ari was setting a faster pace above him, reaching back to grab at his waist for leverage, bouncing into Quentin with quick, hot breaths punctuating every thrust. Quentin shuddered, a long moan escaping him, devolving into <em>fuck, Ari, yes, please, right there, yes, yeah</em> —</p><p>But it was Eliot who came first. Q’s noises and Ari’s breaths and the feeling and sound of slippery movements entered his mind and didn’t leave, swimming, swirling, reverberating, growing and <em>growing</em> in time with the beat of his three-pieced heart that was so much more complete than a three-pieced suit could ever be. One by one, his jagged pieces came together and joined and it was the enrapturing scent of Ari’s hair in his nose, the eye-stinging sweat slicking the way everywhere he touched, the way he couldn’t even see Quentin but could still <em>feel</em> him there, always feel him, that filled his mind as his body tensed and pushed forward and pulled back and came as deep as he could go.</p><p>Legs shaking with the effort of holding himself up, Eliot tipped backwards for a moment of a different kind of free-fall before Ari caught his hands, pitching him forward so he slumped on top of them instead, head hanging over Ari’s shoulder. “That was <em>so fucking hot,</em>” she panted, catching his slack jaw with a hand and pressing her lips hard against his.</p><p>“I’m not the only one,” he slurred. It felt like he was high on something as he lowered himself to the mattress with a bump, slipping the rest of the way out of Quentin.</p><p>“<em>Eliot,</em>” came the plaintive whimper of a response, pulling Eliot’s senses right back to the task at hand. Zeroing in on the way Arielle was still fucking into him, rough and fast, readjusting without Eliot beneath her. Quentin’s body was canted entirely towards her, he could see it now as he crawled towards the pillows where his face rested. Screwed up and flushed red and mouth hanging open, biting on the fabric as Eliot watched.</p><p>Q’s hands let go of the bunched sheets to flutter a few inches sideways and grab on again, the movement revealing a smattering of other wet crescents where he’d bitten down in ecstacy. When he got close enough, Eliot settled his exhausted limbs around Quentin’s head, suddenly protective. His fingers carded firmly through Quentin’s messy, silky hair, smoothing it back only to muss it up again.</p><p>Quentin whined, high and quiet, at the first touch. He stretched up to tug at the hold on his hair, one hand touching at Eliot’s chest for something to grip, eventually fisting only slightly painfully in his chest hair. “El, <em>El,</em> I’m, fuck, <em>empty.</em>”</p><p>The anguish in it poked at Eliot’s chest with something sharp. “Not for long,” he promised, kissing Quentin’s forehead. He caught Ari’s heated gaze, and she nodded jerkily, having heard. It was clear when she slipped fingers inside next to her wooden cock by the fucked-out, laughing sigh of relief that stirred Eliot’s hair and made his every nerve light up. The <em>sounds</em> Quentin made.</p><p>“Fuck,” Eliot whispered.</p><p>“W-what?”</p><p>“You,” Eliot said, curling tighter to suck at the shell of Quentin’s ear and speak right into it. He kept his gaze on Ari, just like she did with him. The atmosphere was beautiful, intoxicating. Liminal. “Do you know how you sound, darling? The way you whimper when you take the head of a cock, moan so pretty for it and beg for more — that’s it, just like that — when you shout and laugh and cry during sex like you don’t care who hears, who sees —”</p><p>“I don’t,” Quentin gasped, “I don’t care, I’m — <em>mn, Ari,</em> both — you — I’m yours, I’m — I’m — <em>fuck, I’m close, Ari, please, please please please</em> —”</p><p>Arielle had already sped up, gaze ravenous on Eliot’s as he fed both of their fires. At Quentin’s pulled string-taut voice she moaned and held herself closer, short hard thrusts pounding into him and keeping her buried deep. Her staccato groans went in and out of coherency, Eliot sometimes catching a <em>gods</em> or a <em>Quentin</em> or a <em>herring.</em></p><p>But her other hand was still between their bodies, keeping Q full, and she couldn’t keep that while reaching around to work his cock the way he needed. Desperation built in Eliot as it did in Quentin’s pleas, the way he writhed and moaned, until it clicked.</p><p>It took three.</p><p>Pressing a final kiss to Q’s ear, he crawled awkwardly and lay down underneath him, propped up to be level with his cock, twitching red and wet and pretty and so, so hard. He stroked out a hand at Ari’s thigh to let her know he was there, then gripped the base of Quentin’s dick, licked once at the head, and swallowed it soundly.</p><p>Quentin’s entire body jumped as he groaned loud and broken. Salty bitterness spilled warm into Eliot’s mouth, and he didn’t stop sucking gently as he spelled it away, keeping just the taste as a reminder. He wished he could have seen Q’s face, but the feeling of his cock softening on his tongue was something to cherish.</p><p>He must have clenched down something hard when he came, since Ari shouted his name immediately. A few long, slamming strokes of her full length and she was bowed over Quentin’s back when Eliot reemerged. Quentin was trembling, back arched almost to a <em>C</em> as he panted and whimpered at the feeling of Arielle coming inside him for the first time.</p><p>There was a moment of waiting, Eliot soothing his hands along Quentin’s neck, shoulders, and back to help him relax back down to the bed as Ari moaned soft and breathy through her aftershocks. She pulled out her fingers first, wincing and flexing them, before carefully slipping out of Quentin’s body altogether.</p><p>The routine for this part was always the same. They all knew what they needed, and they were all very compatible in that they needed lots of skin and soft sighs and welcoming pressure.</p><p>Whoever needed it most went in the middle, so without a word Eliot and Arielle settled on either side of where Quentin collapsed, limp and wrung out, a dreamy smile slowly taking over his face. Eliot brought him to his shoulder, near his heart, and slung a leg over his hips and an arm over his waist. The inside spot was nice sometimes, but Eliot preferred the outside. He was tall enough to easily stretch out over both of his people, wrapping a calf around Ari’s thigh and his hand on her back while she entangled herself with both of them. Quentin hummed, buzzy and relaxed, as they slowly snuggled inwards, squeezing out the space between their bodies until — they knew where one ended and the next began, but the distinction made them no less a part of one another.</p><p>“Holy shit,” Quentin murmured.</p><p>“Mm.” Ari agreed, carding the hair out of his face.</p><p>When Eliot was younger, only a little more foolish but far less loved, he’d been afraid that too much caring would hurt things. Break them. He’d heard phrases like “spoil him rotten” and “heart full to bursting” and thought <em>I hope I never care that much, not ever.</em></p><p>Here, now, in the world where he had <em>this,</em> where he <em>was</em> this — he pulled his family in tight and relished in the way he filled the void those worries could have left. Would have, if he hadn’t chosen differently, <em>been</em> chosen differently. He wasn’t afraid to spoil things rotten because rotten fruit had its perfect place in the compost heap, nurturing the plants for next year. He knew now that his heart would never burst no matter how full it got. The heart grows, always, fills its cage and, heedless, breaks the bars which you hoped would bind it and just keeps on growing until it breaks your shell, too, and you learn to live with your heart not just on your sleeve but in your fingertips, bleeding out with every touch — but it’s okay. You’ll never run dry, not ever.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>